


I howl at the moon, but nobody's home

by ghostofgatsby



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Blood, Developing Relationship, Everybody is Werewolves, Friendship, Injury, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Pack Dynamics, Pack Politics, Scars, Violence, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 22:36:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11427657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostofgatsby/pseuds/ghostofgatsby
Summary: "Smith-” Strife stammered, “Trott challenged Brindley on his command- and Brindley's taken that as a threat. We can't stop Brindley, but if others don't intervene Trott's as good as dead."Smith's heart plummeted into his stomach, and he shoved past Strife with fear climbing up his throat. "Fuck, he's going to kill him..." he mumbled hoarsely. He didn't bother to lock the door as he set off into a run, shedding his clothes and shifting into the wolf form he knew instinctively.The bonds between Smith and Trott, and the bonds between themselves and their pack, are tested when the Alpha exiles Trott from their territory. Trott leaves Smith behind, but winter brings them more than just cold and loneliness.





	I howl at the moon, but nobody's home

**Author's Note:**

> I decided I could post this, because I don't really have an ending and I'm not sure I'll continue it. Despite having a rough few scenes laying about, and more AU info about the wolf packs. It was supposed to be Smornby as well and develop into Hatsome. But I like what I have, so I thought I'd share.
> 
> If anyone wants to chat about the wolf AU, or is inspired to create something- you know the gist. Feel free.  
> Edit: And _actually_ , here are my Very Crappy Unedited notes, with wolf pictures, in lieu of a headcanon post:  
> https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Xj73PgcL0NUcrkRHq4EEjaBfWUbprrurMuEbmYELAjU/edit?usp=sharing
> 
> cw: blood, violence, threats/insults/fighting, wounds/injuries, scars  
> If I need to tag something else, let me know.
> 
> The wolves can telepathically project thoughts into each other's heads, if close enough to each other in wolf form.
> 
> reblog: https://ghostofgatsby13.wordpress.com/2017/07/07/i-howl-at-the-moon-but-nobodys-home-ghostofgatsby/

Smith would have preferred being woken up by Trott sliding into bed next to him, but instead he woke to the sound of more paws than claws scrabbling at the door. The whining was low in pitch, like a growl, so Smith knew it was Strife, and not one of the other wolves in his pack. Peering at the green glow of the bedside clock through sleep-bleary eyes, Smith struggled out of bed and stomped to the entryway of the cabin. The growling stopped as he undid the numerous locks and threw the door open wide.

Smith averted his eyes. "For fuck's sake, Strife, what the fuck-" he hissed.

Will had shifted back into human form, naked and panting from exertion. He must have ran all the way here from his patrol. A patrol he  _ should _ have been on with Trott, with Brindley overseeing.

"What the fuck is going on that you need to wake me up at this shitty-ass hour?" Smith continued.

"Smith-” Strife stammered, “Trott challenged Brindley on his command- and Brindley's taken that as a threat. We can't stop Brindley, but if others don't intervene Trott's as good as dead."

Smith's heart plummeted into his stomach, and he shoved past Strife with fear climbing up his throat. "Fuck, he's going to kill him..." he mumbled hoarsely. He didn't bother to lock the door as he set off into a run, shedding his clothes and shifting into the wolf form he knew instinctively.

Feet and hands turned into big paws and skin rippled into red-brown fur. Bones shifted and reformed and the red-hot pain of voluntarily transforming made every cell in Smith's body scream until the change was complete. Once in wolf form, he took off towards the woods, scenting the ground for Trott's location. Smith wasn’t the best tracker in his pack for nothing, and Trott’s scent was easy to pick up on. Lemongrass, pine, and earl grey tea. He knew it better than breathing.

Strife shifted back into his wolf form, and streaked past Smith in a burst of speed, showing him the way down the trails to where Trott and Brindley were located.

Smith followed. The sound of their paws thudding against dirt and snow did nothing to silence the words echoing in his head.  _ Don't let me be too late to intervene. Please don't let me be too late. I can’t be... _

 

When Smith arrived, he could hear Trott yelping. It meant he was still alive, but it also meant he was in pain. Smith didn't know whether to take that as a good sign or not, and honestly, it just made him angry- what the fuck was going on that Brindley took an issue with  _ Trott _ ?

He and Strife burst through the treeline. Brindley loomed before them, a big mass of black fur in the center of the frosty clearing, with his jaws clamped around Trott's chestnut brown neck. Blood was pooling into the previous evening's snow. The alpha wolf shook Trott is his grasp like a ragdoll and threw him limply aside.

"Get the fuck away from him!" Smith growled, leaping defensively in front of Trott before Brindley could continue his work.

Brindley bared his teeth and sneered back. "Here to go against my orders, Smith, in futile defense to protect your fucking mutt of a mate?"

Smith could feel the hair down his nape bristle up at the jab; at the fury in Brindley’s eyes and Trott’s blood staining his large, sharp canines. "What did he do to deserve this?” Smith questioned, “I thought a council would be called if one of us goes against the pack’s decisions, not-"

"He didn't go against pack, he went against  _ me _ ,” Brindley snarled, stalking towards Smith with his hackles raised, “And I'll deal with that  _ myself _ . Unless you have an objection?"

Smith backed away, unwilling to go up against Brindley, the largest Alpha the wolves of Mistral had ever seen. He bowed his head to the ground, ears flattening to seem unthreatening and subservient. "No. No, I'm not trying to counter your command," he assured. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell Trott was obviously hurt. He was breathing, but Smith didn't know for how long. He didn’t know the extent of Trott’s injuries.

"I would hope not. Because if anyone  _ else _ decides to bypass my orders, they're going to end up worse than this." Brindley gave a warning look to Smith, and then to Strife. Brindley was one of the strongest wolves out of all of them- their Alpha would use that power against anyone who dared defy him, and Smith feared he’d tear both him and Trott apart. "Go back to your patrol, Strife. Cover the ground Trott has so clearly decided to leave vulnerable. Unlike  _ some _ ,  _ we  _ don’t neglect our duties."

Strife nodded once, and then his sandy-colored form disappeared into the woods again.

"And you, you fucking  _ shitstain _ ..." Brindley strode towards Trott and snarled in his face, "If I don’t see your hide gone by sundown tonight, you're as good as dead. Consider yourself exiled, and if you show up near Mistral again, I’ll tear you to fucking pieces myself."

Trott blinked up at him from where he was laying in the snow, panting in pained gasps. He and Smith watched as Brindley sneered and stalked off to cover his rounds.

"Trott..." Smith quickly approached him, leaping across the blood trails in the snow. Brindley had left to patrol with a couple scrapes to his face and snout, but Trott had terrible bite wounds, deep into the flesh of his right leg and the scruff of his neck. "Trott, what the fuck happened?" Smith asked, gently licking Trott's chestnut brown fur clean of blood. The taste made him sick, but he couldn't let any other injuries hide under it. If Trott needed a doctor, Smith would have to take him there himself...and that's a two hour's drive into the city. “Strife woke me up, said you were in trouble with Brindley.”

"You know how he gets, Smith..." Trott sighed, pained, "with his backhanded compliments. I couldn't take it anymore...”

Smith stood tall over him, shielding Trott’s thin body with his and hoping some warmth would transfer. It was starting to snow again, tiny white pinpricks falling from the empty January sky like specks of stardust.

“He- he was talking about territories, and I disagreed on something stupid. I shouldn’t have gone against him, but he took it as a  _ threat- _ " Trott let out a yelp as Smith accidentally grazed the edge of a wound.

"Sorry, sorry." Smith nuzzled Trott's untouched shoulder and stepped over him to flank his other side. "Can you stand?"

"I don't know...my leg..."

"I'll help. Come on, on three." Smith pushed his pointy snout under Trott's torso and braced his paws on the snow to support him from underneath.

Trott slowly stood on aching legs, whimpering the entire time. "I- I can't put weight on my back leg, Smith," he informed him, "I can limp, but- not very quickly."

Smith pressed their bodies as close as he could dare, careful not to knock Trott over or unbalance him. Trott leaned into him just the slightest, and Smith growled in anger at tonight’s events. Trott never should have gotten hurt. He should have come home safely from patrol like they always had before. "I should have been here,” he snarled, “I can't believe Brindley fucking did this to you. If I was here, I could have stopped it-"

"No..." Trott said gently, meeting his gaze, "No, Smith. If you were here you would've gotten yourself hurt and exiled too." Trott's brown eyes hold so much sadness and pain.

Smith whined worriedly, wanting to rest his head on Trott's but not wanting to acerbate the wounds on his neck.

“He could have killed you, Trott.” Smith said shakily, licking one of Trott’s small ears that poked out above his scruffy head. Blood was still matted in Trott’s shaggy fur.

Trott nuzzled him back. His nose streaked cold and wet against Smith’s snout. He voiced nothing telepathically, but Smith heard the apology nonetheless. An apology Trott didn’t really need to give- it wasn’t his fault their Alpha was an asshole.

Smith sighed and looked towards the East: the direction of the rising sun and the opposite of their home and the pack. "Trott...you need to run..."

"I know," Trott said, limping forwards a couple steps. There was blood in the snow, still, left behind from his and Brindley's fight. The worst of the injuries would heal thanks to their supernatural healing capabilities, but it was hard to tell in wolf form if Trott would need stitches.

Smith ached desperately. He didn’t know whether to follow Trott or stay back; to concede Brindley’s choices or rally against him. He knew it would be for the best if he stayed with the pack, and stayed complacent, but he felt torn. Brindley and Jones always made stupid snide comments about his protection of Trott, but Smith cared deeply for him and didn’t want to see him hurt. Jokes about “mates” aside, it didn’t change how he felt.

“Trott…” he started, taking a step towards his wolf companion and stopping, "I'll find you, I promise. Get somewhere safe, and wait for summer. I'll figure something out- he can't just exile you."

Trott limped tentatively eastward out of the clearing, sighing and trying to get a sense of balance and pace with the raw wound on his leg. "He's the Alpha, Smith, he can do what he wants."

"Well, he shouldn't!" Smith growled, "Alphas should be leaders, not dictators- and if he thinks that's the right way to treat his pack, then maybe I  _ should _ have been Alpha, instead!"

"Hush...no good will come from that kind of talk if you're overheard," Trott shushed him, carefully and painfully making his way through the inches of snow drifting between the trees.

Smith sighed and pawed behind Trott to the edge of the woods. His anger softened at the sight of him struggling towards where the clearing met the treeline. "I'll miss you, you twat," he said softly.

Trott turned back to look at him with sadness in his brown eyes. "I know. I'll miss you, too, Smith,” he said.

They stared at each other for a long moment, until Trott turned away again and continued onward.

Smith watched from the clearing edge as Trott’s paw tracks in the snow grew and grew and the sight of his chestnut brown wolf form disappeared into the distant woods.

 

Trott trudged east. His winter coat never fully shed in the summer, and though the extra insulation was nice in the winter, the snow stuck to his fur left him wet and shivering. The cold numbed the pain, but Trott knew he had to find shelter. He didn't know how far it was to the next pack's territory, or if they'd even give him sanctuary if he asked. He hoped he was going in the right direction.

Snow clung to the tree branches above him. The frigid wind blew straight through his fur, scattering flurries of glittering white through the air. It would look prettier, Trott thought, if he wasn’t outside in the middle of it.

Exhaustion tugged at his eyelids, and Trott stumbled down the slope of an embankment, yelping as he put too much weight on his injured leg. The fight with Brindley had been stupid, and now he was injured, out in the elements, and without his pack. He should have kept his maw shut. But Trott couldn't take the way the Alpha talked down snidely to everyone but Jones and Pyrion. That wasn’t how a pack should be lead. He should have known better than to go against Brindley’s judgment, though. This time, not even Smith could keep him safe.

Trott mentally cursed at himself as the hour grew later into the night. Dawn would be breaking soon- he could tell by the lightening at the edges of the horizon. He couldn’t feel his paws anymore. He couldn’t tell if he was still shivering. But the trees parted eventually, revealing a snow-covered field, and a cabin on the other side. Smoke piped out the chimney, and a solitary light shone behind the front window.

Warmth. Guaranteed warmth.

Trott marched slowly forward, sighing through his teeth. Condensation puffed in front of his snout with every breath.

Hopefully someone would let him in. He didn't know if he could survive the night like this.

When Trott got to the cabin, he scratched and whined at the door, until he heard the drawing back of a lock.

The man who opened the door was tall and lanky, with five o’clock shadow and a New York Mets baseball cap. He looked down at Trott, who was crouched submissively at the door, shuddering, and his eyes widened.

“ _ Shit _ . You got fucked up, huh, pup? Get in here, before you die of exposure.” He stepped back and Trott gladly limped inside, growling in relief at the heat from the fireplace that radiated through the cabin. His snow-sodden fur dripped onto the rug in front of the door, on which several pairs of boots in different sizes sat in a heap.

"Hey, Sherlock! Get the first aid kit and some towels would you? We got a straggler at the door," the man shouted over his shoulder. Trott couldn't see much past the entryway, besides the fireplace, but he could hear a tv and the sound of someone snoring.

The man who let him in closed the door and kneeled down next to him, adjusting the hat on his head as he did so.

"You an exile from another pack?" he asked.

Trott nodded, teeth chattering.

The man smiled. "Me too. Name's Sips. Welcome to the Outcast Pack."

Another man, shorter and stockier than Sips, with dark brown hair and glasses, popped into the entryway and handed Sips the towels.

“Hey mate, call me Sherlock. Do you want to try to shift back?" he asked Trott.

Trott shook his head. He didn't think he could without passing out or extenuating his injuries. He struggled to keep his eyes open as Sips carefully dried him off. It was so nice not to be out in the cold anymore…

He swooned to the right a bit, and Sips steadied him with a careful hand on his side.

“Easy…hang in there just a bit longer, kiddo.”

Trott didn’t have the energy to chuff at him, but he narrowed his eyes. Kiddo? He’s in his late twenties, thank-you-very-much.

Sherlock knelt down next to Sips and opened up a plastic container of bandages. "I'm going to patch you up best I can, alright?" he said to Trott.

Trott nodded, surprised at the others' genuine kindness. Brindley would have left him for dead. No one in his... _ former _ pack, would have helped him. Besides Smith.

Sherlock cleaned up the bite marks around his neck and wrapped his back leg in bandages. When he was finished, Sips fed Trott some painkillers, and Trott limped over to the fireplace to lay down in front of it. The warmth and heat from the fire melted the lingering cold in his bones, and he fell asleep the minute he laid his head down.

 

Trott woke up with a dull ache behind his eyes, sore all over and still exhausted. He’d changed back into human form involuntarily while he was asleep, and someone had draped a blanket over him and propped his head up with a pillow. He blinked dazedly, examining the living room he was in, with it’s mismatched plaid couches and a dark green recliner. The kitchen was on the other side of the entryway, past a half wall dividing the two rooms, and there was a small circular dining table in the center.

Across from the entryway was a hallway, where Trott guessed there were bedrooms and a bathroom. He listened carefully, hearing snoring noises coming from the hall, and someone in the kitchen, stirring a spoon in a mug.

Trott shifted a little under the blanket, wincing sharply and nuzzling his cheek a little against the braided rug beneath him. There was no way he’d be able to walk. The bandages had ripped off in transformation. He felt more healed than he did last night, but he knew the deep tissue damage Brindley had caused would still have negative side effects on his human body.

Trott sat up slowly, an inch at a time, careful not to acerbate his wounds. The blanket fell off his bare chest as he looked down at his leg sticking out the other end. Deep bruising surrounded jagged pale-pink scars. The wounds had closed up on their own- the blessings of supernatural healing- and he was lucky he hadn’t needed stitches. There was only a dull ache in his neck, too. Trott rotated his head carefully from side to side, frowning painfully. The healing had gotten a little farther along there- just bruising, from how it felt. It probably looked worse. Would probably scar something nasty.

Sips appeared from around the archway to the kitchen, carrying a mug in each hand. “Afternoon. Coffee?”

Trott nodded, and adjusted the blanket self-consciously to make sure his lap was covered.

Sips walked over and handed a mug to Trott, and then sat down cross-legged next to him. “Sorry about not having some clothes for you. I wasn’t sure what your size was, and you looked pretty wrecked, besides…”

Trott drank his coffee and listened to Sips talk and explain things. Sips was the sort-of leader of the Outcast pack- a little group of misfits from other packs who had dissolved or exiled the wolves in the past.

“There’s just a few of us, so it’s not too crowded or anally organized. I imagine you don’t have anything to your name, so let me know what you need, and I’ll send Turps into town to get you some things when he wakes up. He’s the one snoring.” Sips smiled wryly over the rim of his coffee mug.

Trott was thankful that Sips had filled in the silence in the room, and didn’t ask prying questions. He didn’t really know what to say about his reasoning for leaving. He isn’t sure he had a choice- but if he hadn’t told Brindley off, he wouldn’t be here. He wouldn’t be hurt. He would be in bed with Smith. Trott really regretted that right now. If he hadn’t made a stupid mistake, he would have woken up to Smith making breakfast food for lunch, not laying on the floor in a new place, buck-naked with a fucked up leg.

“I pissed off the alpha in my pack, and he exiled me,” Trott said simply, watching the last drops of coffee in his mug cling to the inside as he turned it in his hands.

“Anybody I know?” Sips asked.

“I don’t know- do you know a wolf by the name of Brindley?”

“ _ That _ motherfucker? That was your Alpha? Jeeze. No wonder you got tore apart!” Sips exclaimed angrily.

Trott looked up to meet Sips’ eyes. “You knew him?”

The other man pointed to a thick scar hidden in his hairline. “Oh yeah. I used to be his second. I’ve got scars of all kinds from  _ that  _ piece of shit, and this is just one of ‘em.” Sips shook his head bitterly and dropped his hand back to his lap. “It was probably a good thing you got out of that place now. If he’s anything like he was when I was with him, he’s got a stick up his ass the size of a telephone pole.”

Trott snorted at the jibe, but the insult made him think of Smith, who would insult Brindley when the Alpha came up in conversation between the two of them. He looked back down to his mug briefly. In the end, Smith was what he had to leave behind. It hurt more to leave, because of that. Sips was comfortable to be around, and seemingly kind so far, for which Trott was thankful.

But...it wasn’t the same, without Smith.

“I don’t know what to do now,” Trott said with a sigh.

“Heal. Recuperate. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want to. You’ll have to bunk in the same room as me, if that’s alright- we have an extra cot, but not a lot of space,” Sips informed him.

Trott smiled wryly. “As long as you don’t snore, too. ‘Turps’ sounds like a fuckin’ freight train.” The other man’s snores could still be heard echoing down the little hallway into the living room.

“Yeah, he sure does.” Sips laughed and patted him gently on the shoulder. “I like you already, kid.”

“It’s Trott. And I’m twenty five.”

“And I’m fuckin’ older than you, so I’m gonna call you a young whippersnapper if I want. Senior’s rights. Written in the official older adults book. Page  _ nine _ ,” he groaned, standing up and stretching.

“Fuck you,” Trott teased back, “Get me more coffee while you’re up, would you?”

Sips laughed again and took Trott’s empty mug. “Yeah, whatever, punk. I’ll let you mooch off us now since you’re indisposed...” He smiled. “Regardless, I think you’ll fit in here just fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> yes, I do have wolf-casts for everyone.  
> the characters in this:  
> Smith- http://pre14.deviantart.net/12fb/th/pre/i/2011/268/0/5/red_wolf_stock_39_by_hotnstock-d4ayiy0.jpg  
> Trott- https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQUU7A8Wq2b6oZ1-WXYoKjvOF-WA_zmnWI9Xn6VfnQD0sWiRymPIQ  
> Strife- https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/60/55/a6/6055a6dcd74fc31e9a964a87371063fb--wolves-art-grey-wolves.jpg  
> Brindley- http://stuff-and-more-stuff.weebly.com/uploads/1/5/1/8/15188344/8605297_orig.jpg  
> Sips- https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/oU2kPJGd70b2Yw6GWxPCmhGXBCH8qAAMBTQKbl8sBdpoKz7o9sGje3DE-dXDHlsvdQ=w300  
> Sherlock/Turps- https://lmistudenwiki.wikispaces.com/file/view/tmbrwolf2.jpg/140267655/tmbrwolf2.jpg
> 
> some songs:  
> Four Walls (The Ballad Of Perry Smith)- Bastille  
> Sucker in the Void (The Lone Mile)- Kevin Morby  
> Winter Is Coming- Radical Face  
> The Fall- Imagine Dragons  
> Dear Fellow Traveller- Sea Wolf  
> Winter Song- The Head and the Heart
> 
> wolf AU links:  
> http://crow-bear.tumblr.com/post/153572107442/renamonkalou-fire-pit-waler  
> http://crow-bear.tumblr.com/post/153355768555/dpcphotography-hathersage  
> http://crow-bear.tumblr.com/post/143930374734/foxmouth-tahoma-2016-by-cody-cobb  
> http://alandavisphoto.tumblr.com/post/131375918360/looking-up-through-the-trees-in-our-campsite-at  
> http://aaesthetic-angel.tumblr.com/post/147289741706/wolf-boy  
> http://lovingdeerwhispers.tumblr.com/post/152842875883/werewolf-packfamily-aesthetic-board-i-woke-up  
> http://skcgsra.tumblr.com/post/149357427446/sk%C3%B6ll-and-hati-aesthetic-two-wolves-who-are-only


End file.
